


Clay #%*@ing Jensen

by WillPJackson



Series: Not Like a Brother [1]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon typical references to drug use, Clustin, First Time, Fuzzy legal advice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s02e11 Bryce and Chloe, Reflection on prior episodes, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillPJackson/pseuds/WillPJackson
Summary: After stopping Clay from making a huge mistake, Justin realizes he can no longer pretend not to hear the boy crying himself to sleep at night. How will Justin's decision to act change everything between them?





	1. Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot get over how much I have fallen for Justin in season 2, especially in his relationship with Clay. These two idiots have stayed with me for many months and I intend to work through exploring the groundwork laid by the 2nd season finale before the third season breaks my heart, not unlike another certain TV fandom I've written for.
> 
> But first, there's a lot of ground to cover in the second season. Although this picks up after episode 11, you wouldn't necessarily need to watch everything again. However, much of what follows assumes you know what's already happened on-screen. I try to be faithful to what happens -- with deliberate deviations here and there -- and if you're coming across this after season 3 has already aired, all bets are off.

Clay fucking Jensen. What the hell was he thinking, going after Bryce like that? Clay was supposed to be the smart one. The steady one. The keep-your-shit-together, come-up-with-another-plan Jensen. Getting a gun (where the fuck did he get _that?)_ and—what did Jensen honestly think he was gonna do?

Justin hadn’t expected their roles to reverse like that so quickly. It had barely been a few days earlier that Clay had been so driven, and after they’d found the clubhouse—and the proof they needed to finally take down Bryce—how could they have known the pictures would get stolen? Sure, they should have been more careful, but hindsight was a bitch. Always a bitch. Nothing but a bitch.

He’d known Bryce was going to do nothing but lie through his teeth on the stand, and so he’d thought Clay would have, too. But now, Justin wasn’t so sure. They probably should have known that Chloe was a long shot as well. Justin knew what it was like to be under Bryce’s thumb—he better than anyone else. But Justin was the one with the plan, now—he was going to point the finger, with Jessica’s blessing—and so that should’ve been enough to get Jensen back on track.

Shouldn’t it?

Maybe getting tailed had spooked Clay. Maybe he didn’t believe Justin would really come through. Okay, Justin wouldn’t believe in himself, either, but Jensen was supposed to be the optimistic one. Clay wasn’t supposed to lose his shit. Clay wasn’t supposed to go _there._

Justin knew. He’d been _there_. He just didn’t think Jensen would _know_ , too, or get _there_ , either. Not the annoying, stick-in-the-butt Jensen who went searching for him and pulled him off the streets, who gave him a place to stay, who forced him to sober up. For Jessica. For Hannah. To take down Bryce. Justin had quickly learned that Clay was a fighter. He may not have looked like one, but Jensen was the toughest S.O.B. Justin had ever met. Clay didn’t give up. He looked out for people. He kicked Justin’s ass.

Who’d have thought—Jensen needed someone to look out for _him?_

Again, hindsight. A bitch. Justin should have guessed something was up when he’d found Clay like that on the bed, in a state, talking to himself. No, talking to—Hannah? Justin knew crazy people didn’t like it when you pointed out their crazy, so he didn’t say anything then, but he should have taken it as a sign. Clay wasn’t all right. He wasn’t immune to going _there_. Anybody could get there if pushed hard enough, especially if they were being haunted by a dead girl. Jensen was a fighter, so he had to hide his feelings. He couldn’t show weakness.

Bullshit. Justin could see the signs. He was just too chicken shit to do anything about it.

Like now, as he lay on Clay’s couch, staring at the ceiling, trying not to hear the boy across the room sobbing into his pillow.

Because that’s what Justin did. He hid from pain. He ran from the heavy stuff. He looked for any excuse not to— _feel_.

Not Clay, though. He faced that shit head on. He saw the pain and looked it straight in the eyes. He clearly felt _everything._ Because he had the courage to _feel._

“Jensen.”

Immediately, the crying stopped. So, he was awake this time.

“Jensen.”

A pause. Finally, “What?”

“Are you all right?”

No response. Some nights, Justin would be awoken by Clay’s moaning and incoherent mumbling. Obviously nightmares. But Justin would have no idea what to do. Let him fall back asleep? Wake him up? They never lasted long enough for him to decide. Not until tonight.

“Jensen?”

“I’m fine.”

His crying had been louder than his words. In the dead silence of the attic, Justin couldn’t even fall asleep to music in his earbuds because it would disturb Clay.

Justin tried to take him at his word, but after a few moments of quiet, he could hear Clay struggling to stay silent. Justin knew better—the harder you fought, sometimes, the worse it got. And after what happened tonight, he couldn’t ignore this any longer. Justin may have been there earlier tonight, but Clay still needed _someone_ to be there for him _now._

He swung his legs off the couch and tiptoed across the room. “Clay, I’m getting in that bed with you.”

“What?”

Justin sat on the edge of the bed just as Clay sat up.

“I’m going to hold you until you stop crying, or fall asleep, or both. Or, we talk—your choice.”

In the moonlight, Clay’s tears glistened across his cheeks. “I don’t wanna talk,” he uttered. Ugh, he had never sounded so defeated.

“So, plan A, then?”

Clay lay back and turned away from him. “Whatever.”

Justin was suddenly unsure, but he didn’t have any better ideas. Slowly, he drew back the covers enough to get beneath them. At first, Clay didn’t move, but as Justin settled beside him, the boy shuffled over slightly to make a little more room for him. Just a little. Justin was on his back, and he quickly felt very stupid, but lying awkwardly on a third of a bed wasn’t much worse than sleeping on the couch. At least this way, he figured Jensen would be too annoyed by or too focused on the invasion of privacy to keep crying.

What he didn’t expect was for Jensen to turn around and grab onto him—he could feel one arm slide under his pillow while the other reached across his chest—as Clay broke into full-fledged sobs again. As the boy cried into his shoulder, Justin reached across with his free hand and grasped the back of his head.

“It’s all right, Clay. It’s all right. It’s gonna be okay.”

It was bullshit, but it was what you said to people in this state, right? Justin wasn’t sure—he was just winging this—but as he repeated the words, Clay gradually seemed to settle. Or at least, he seemed to be able to get it out of his system. Better than sobbing into a dead girl’s ghost—right?

After a while, Clay seemed to stop crying. He turned onto his side, away from Justin. It had been so warm, holding him like that, Justin wanted to keep doing it, but he didn’t know if he should. He turned towards Clay, mostly because he needed to change his position, and kept a few inches between them.

“I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” Clay uttered. Justin couldn’t help smiling as he inched closer to spoon him. After bringing his arm around Clay’s side, the boy took his hand and interlaced his fingers between Justin’s. There it was again, that warmth.

Justin held him close. As he listened to Clay’s breathing gradually steady into that regular rhythm of sleep, he could feel his own eyes begin to well. What the fuck was this feeling? For the first time in months, could it—could it really be—peace? Joy? Happiness?

Could he—could he have finally _done_ something _right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a prologue, for now. Each "work" in the series will be directly related and continuous, although there may be some sections that you could potentially skip as the rating goes up. These would possibly be PwP sections not directly related to the plot.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, Justin has another decision to make, and Clay shows him how to tie a tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show already gives us so much. This is one moment I couldn't bear to skip over.

Morning arrived with a gentle nudge and a quiet groan. Justin opened his eyes to see sunlight peering through the window, illuminating the room. He was on his side, clutching a wad of covers, when he felt something shift beside him. Some _one_. He turned just in time for a forearm to bump against his cheek.

Clay recoiled right as Justin met his eyes. For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other.

“Sorry, I—” Clay began.

“It’s okay,” Justin insisted.

As Clay looked around the bed, at how much Justin ended up being a blanket hog, Justin wanted to kick himself. Fuck. Clay was freaking out. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the bed with him—he should have just made sure Clay was all right and gotten back on the couch.

Hindsight. A fucking bitch.

A boomy voice called from downstairs. Mr. Jensen. Calling them for breakfast.

“We should, we should head downstairs,” Justin said.

“Eat breakfast, yeah,” Clay agreed.

Justin tried to get out of bed, but he was trapped. How the fuck did the blanket get so wrapped up around him? As he tried to free himself, he ended up rolling off the bed and crashed onto the floor.

“Shit, are you all right?”

His ineptitude seemed to do the trick. “Yeah, yeah, I’m—” Justin lost his words as he looked up to see Clay above him.

Jensen was smiling at him. Smiling. At him.

Justin figured that was karma for him, for taking up all the covers. “I’m fine,” he said, grinning back at Clay.

“You’re not used to sharing a bed, are you?”

“No, I am, I just—well, are _you_?” When Clay didn’t say anything, Justin shook his head. “Was that, was it—?”

“It’s cool,” Clay said, stepping off the bed. He offered Justin his hand, and Justin looked at it for only a split second before accepting the gesture and getting back to his feet.

As a yawn overtook him, Justin raised his arms to stretch. Then, as he remembered what was happening today—what he was about to do—all he could think of was how much he wanted to get back to bed, back to bed with—

Mr. Jensen called for them again. “Right, Dad!” Clay shouted in response, opening the door. He yawned as he looked back at Justin. “You ready?”

Despite himself, Justin nodded. “I’m starving,” he lied.

As he followed Clay downstairs, he wasn’t sure what scared him more—testifying, or that he’d wanted to get back into bed with Clay. With Jensen. With Clay fucking Jensen.

~             ~             ~

Breakfast actually seemed to be normal for once, and for Justin, that’s what had made it so weird. He wasn’t used to having breakfast as a family to begin with, but the fact that Mrs. Jensen was there only seemed to make things better in a worse way. Sure, he was happy that Clay’s mom was back, but Clay himself seemed a little weirded out by it. Or maybe it was because she had asked to speak privately with Justin after breakfast—and that definitely made Justin nervous, too. Or maybe it was everything that had happened last night, and what was to come today. Shit, who the fuck knew what Jensen was thinking? And why did Justin want to suddenly know so badly?

He’d tried to focus on Mr. Jensen as they ate. No matter what seemed to happen, Mr. Jensen had always been the stoic rock each morning, even while Mrs. Jensen was gone, and Justin respected him for that. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, Justin knew, but more like he had complete confidence things were gonna be okay. Justin bet he was an awesome poker player. Either way, he wished he had nerves of steel like that.

So between an antsy Clay and a steady Mr. Jensen and a totally unreadable Mrs. Jensen, Justin realized he was only left with his own nerves as they cleared the plates and left him and Mrs. Jensen at the table.

She was watching him. Justin tried not to notice as they finished their coffee. She was probably sizing him up, strategizing how best to deliver whatever she had to tell him. Yeah, she was definitely the lawyer, keeping up her steady demeanor of poised neutrality as she sipped her coffee—eyes not on Justin, but seeing him completely nonetheless. She would also totally kill at poker, too, Justin realized, and together she and Mr. Jensen would utterly smash anybody who dared challenge them.

Justin knew she was on his side, but how she felt about that, he could only guess. If this was supposed to be a taste of what court was going to be like, well—he just hoped he wasn’t as transparent and as naked as he felt once Mr. Jensen had left the kitchen.

“Did you ask to speak to me alone because you don’t want me to tell Clay?”

“No, I asked to speak to you because I wanted to make sure that this was your choice to testify today.”

“It is.”

“Good. I imagined it to be so, but as I said earlier, if you choose to tell Clay, that’s your choice. You just need to be fully aware of the possible consequences of your testimony, and what going on record could potentially mean for you.”

Justin wondered if lawyer mode was her default behavior, or if this was a legit legal conversation. Probably both. If he had any money, she probably would have been on retainer already; Justin couldn’t be more grateful that she was doing this pro bono.

“I could get in trouble for this, couldn’t I? For—not doing anything when Jessica… When Bryce…”

Mrs. Jensen took a deep breath. He guessed she probably didn’t expect him to connect the dots so quickly.

“This is based solely on what I heard on Hannah’s tapes, so if you know something that contradicts what she said, please tell me. Are you familiar with the term ‘accessory’ when it comes to a crime?”

Justin swallowed. “Like, when you’re there and a crime happens, but you don’t do anything about it?”

“Not quite. An accessory to a crime is someone who learns of a crime after the fact, and either does not report the crime, or helps the perpetrator to cover it up.”

“Which I did.”

“I’m not bringing this up to scare you. Remember, you’re not the one on trial here, so whatever crimes you may think you are admitting to does not automatically mean you will be arrested. It’s a courtroom, not a police station. However, any statements you make in court can be used against you later.”

“So I could go to jail.”

“Juvenile detention, realistically, but only if someone decides to bring charges against you, or more likely, Bryce.”

“Or if Jessica decides to go to the police.”

Mrs. Jensen nodded. “I also bring this up,” she went on, “because one strategy the defense may try is to counter your testimony by painting you as ‘in’ on Bryce’s actions, either as an accessory—or as an accomplice.”

Justin immediately felt very, very cold. His face burned. “You mean like I _helped_ Bryce— _do that_ to Jessica?” he blurted. It was a miracle he hadn’t shouted, and it took everything he had not to explode.

Mrs. Jensen took his hand. Mom mode, override. “Remember, the defense’s job is to plant doubt in the jury’s mind. To charge someone as an accomplice requires a greater degree of involvement and so a steeper hill to climb to prove intent. Any light you can shed on your relationship with Bryce will help your testimony, so don’t leave anything out. Remain calm, and remember that you’re putting yourself out there, too. If it comes up, the jury will see you know the risks by coming forward.”

She also went through how the defense could also try to discredit what he saw, given that he wasn’t physically in the room, his intoxication, and also his drug use. Ultimately—to present any reason or motive to lie. Given how thorough the defense had been so far, anything was fair game, and he had to assume they knew everything.

“So what you’re saying is that I’m pretty much going to be useless as a witness.”

“No, Justin, not at all.”

“But it could still all be for nothing?”

When Mrs. Jensen hesitated, Justin scoffed at himself. “You think I’m making a big mistake, aren’t I?”

She leaned forward. “No, I don’t. Doing the right thing is hard—as is getting someone to believe the truth. The only way you can best help yourself is to know all of the possibilities in front of you. Only then can you make the best decision. At the end of the day, you’ve got to decide what choices you can live with.”

When she smiled at him, he managed a weak smile back. “You have a good heart, Justin,” she said. “I truly believe that. And I believe in you, too, as does Clay. He wouldn’t have brought you here, otherwise.”

As his nerves continued to claw at his stomach, Justin still wasn’t so sure. As they stood, Mrs. Jensen taking his coffee mug, he decided to believe her, at least for now. In theory, she would know Clay better than he did, right?

~             ~             ~

  
Justin ran into Clay just as he was stepping out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and with a towel around his waist. Justin caught the deer-in-headlights look on Jensen’s face, but was too distracted to acknowledge it.

“My mom finish talking with you already? What did she say?”

Justin sighed. “I really need a shower, first.”

Clay nodded quickly. “Right, right. I was quick, so there’s still plenty of hot water, I promise.” He dashed off to his room before Justin could say anything, which was fine, because his head was still going ninety-miles a minute.

After quickly stripping off his—mostly Clay’s—clothes, and stepping into the shower, Justin let the water drench him in an effort to even out his nerves. If he was going to help take down Bryce, to help Jessica, to help Clay—he was going to have to get his shit together. He was their last shot. Clay was counting on him, that much was crystal clear, even if Jensen didn’t really believe in him.

And he had to do this for Jessica. No matter what. And that meant, if Clay knew what his mom had told him, there was the chance he might try to stop him. Justin wasn’t sure anymore how big of a chance, but a part of him—a part of him he’d been trying to ignore the whole morning—knew that was most likely a very big chance. Mrs. Jensen had asked Clay to trust her, and after what had happened with their big blowout before, Justin couldn’t risk them butting heads again.

“No, I can’t tell him,” Justin said to himself. _Let me help you do this_ , he thought. _You’ve already helped me way more than I deserve._

He tried to shut off the rest of his brain as he went through the motions of a shower and brushing his teeth. By the time Justin stepped out of the bathroom and made it to Clay’s room, Clay was already dressed and had actually laid out an outfit for him on the couch. Underwear, socks, and a navy suit with a green tie.

“This one should fit you,” he said quickly as he pulled a belt from the closet and made for the couch.

Justin nearly laughed. “We’re the same size, Clay.” He began to slide the towel off from his waist.

Clay tossed the belt down by the slacks and quickly turned around. “Yeah, I know. I just meant, well, I still have some old clothes I haven’t gotten rid of, and you _are_ a little bit taller than me, so…” He trailed off. As Jensen began staring intently out the window, Justin managed a silent, inward laugh. Clay was being weird, but that was okay. They had bigger shit to deal with.

“You’ve seen me naked already, Jensen.”

“I haven’t, actually, but that is—beside the point.”

After slipping on Clay’s clothes, and they did fit perfectly, Justin began working on the tie. He saw Clay in the mirror still purposely staring out the window.

“I’m decent, now, you know.”

Clay turned. “Right,” he said, heading over to the couch. “The pants aren’t too tight, are they?” he asked, sitting down. “Those were always a little tight on me.”

“They’re fine.”

“Good. So, how’d it go with my mom?”

“Okay, I think.”

“Well, what did she tell you?”

“Ju—nothing important. Just—walked me through how the day’s gonna go.”

“What did she say was at stake?”

“Mostly everything you already know. I mean—” Justin cursed under his breath as the stupid fabric around his neck refused to cooperate. The knot just wouldn’t get in the right shape.

“Do you—know how to tie a tie?”

“Yes,” Justin insisted, turning to face Clay. He sighed as he looked back at the mirror. “I’m just nervous, okay?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clay gingerly rise from the couch before stepping behind him. He felt a pat on the back and a slight tug on the tie. Feeling himself deflate even further, Justin pulled apart the tie and handed it to Clay in defeat.

“I guess,” he began, moving aside as Jensen stood in front of the mirror and wrapped the tie around his own neck. Justin sighed as he collapsed against the wall. “Doing this sober is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. And you know I’m gonna have to say stuff about—me and Hannah. Stuff that you don’t,” he shot a quick glance at Clay, “you don’t know.”

When he met Clay’s eyes again, the look on the boy’s face twisted his stomach into the knot the stupid tie refused to get into earlier. “We, we didn’t,” Justin insisted, shaking his head, “we never had sex. Or anything like that. There’s just more to the story.”

As Clay looked back towards the finished knot around his neck, Justin went on, “I don’t want you to start hating me again.”

Jensen slipped the looped tie off himself and placed it around the popped collars around Justin’s neck. After adjusting the loop into place, Clay said, “Who said I stopped?”

Though Clay had been deadpan, Justin could tell in the boy’s eyes that there was no real bite to his words. There he was again, at least, with that Jensen humor. Justin wanted to smile; he felt his lips even twitch slightly. Clay stepped aside to give him his spot in front of the mirror again.

“Just don’t lose your shit, okay?” Justin said, tightening the knot. He shook his head. “Man, you really freaked me out last night.”

“Wait, you came over to me.”

Justin froze as he gazed at Clay. “You think I’m talking about _that?_ Why would _that_ freak me out more than you almost…” He let himself trail off and looked back at the mirror.

“I dunno—does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Clay turned and stepped away from him. Despite himself, Justin couldn’t let this just slide. “Where’d you get the gun?” he asked.

When Clay didn’t answer right away, he turned towards him. “I—borrowed it,” Jensen finally said. “From a friend.”

Justin turned towards him completely. “Well, give it back,” he said. He couldn’t bear the thought of Clay getting shit for this.

“Yeah,” Jensen said, shaking his head in agreement. “No, yeah, for sure. I’m…”

When Clay didn’t finish his sentence, Justin looked down towards the tie. That was fine—there were a bunch of things they weren’t going to talk about right then.

“Jesus, how do you not know how…?” Clay began. Justin could only let out a sigh. “I’ve _seen_ you in a tie. Last year at the winter dance.” He shook his head as he stepped back towards Justin and grasped the sorry knot below his neck.

Justin tried to find comfort in Clay’s disappointment in his lack of basic life skills. It was better than the bitter wave of nostalgia that hit him at that moment.

“I didn’t, actually, but, Bryce—used to tie them for me.” He looked away from Clay. “I never really learned how.”

And there it was—the sad, perfect metaphor for his friendship with Bryce. It took what little Justin had left in him to keep the lid on the wave of emotions tumbling around inside of him as Clay pulled some dress shoes from his closet.

“This is the last piece,” he said, setting the shoes by the couch. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

As he made for the door, Justin uttered, “Thanks.” Clay paused to give him a slight nod before stepping out of the room.

Justin stared at himself in the mirror, at the tie that finally looked halfway decent around his neck. His nerves swelled again, and he was immediately unsure once more if he really had it in him. He took a deep breath. As the image of the gun against Clay’s forehead flashed before him, Justin looked towards the blazer on the couch. Fuck it—he’d come this far already. The suit would at least help mask the homeless, street-trash, heroin-addict scars he couldn’t help see staring back at him in the mirror.

Bryce had fucking owned him. He had this way with practically everyone. If Jessica, if Chloe—if they couldn’t do it, what chance did _he_ have?

Justin grunted a frustrated sigh and threw himself on the couch next to the blazer. No way, there was no fucking way—what was he thinking? He wasn’t going to be able to help anybody. He couldn’t help his mom, he couldn’t stand up to Bryce, he couldn’t save Jessica—

There was a gentle knock on the door. It opened slightly before Justin could say anything. Mrs. Jensen.

“I saw Clay head downstairs,” she said, peering through the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

Justin forced himself to nod. “Fine.”

Clay’s mom smiled at him. “You look very handsome, Justin.”

He shrugged. “It’s Clay, really.”

“And—by extension, me.” Justin managed a quiet laugh. “I just wanted to say,” Mrs. Jensen went on, “you and Clay can drive together. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.”

When she shut the door, Justin grabbed the blazer and stood up to put it on. Fuck his nerves. Clay went through so much shit to get them to this point. There could be no turning back now. He took one last deep breath to psych himself out—and noticed through the window Clay downstairs on the patio steps.

As Justin went to get a better look, he felt a surge of anger burn through him. The way he was looking at—the way he was talking to—something, or _someone_ , that wasn’t there—one thing, at least, finally made sense. Fucking Hannah Baker. Haunting Clay from the grave. That had to be it—with what Jensen had said in front of Bryce’s house, nothing else made sense. That had to be what pushed Clay _there._

He knew Clay wasn’t crazy. At least, not crazy in that way, so he put the shoes on, trotted downstairs and burst through the front door.

“All right,” he began, making sure to walk directly by Clay and where the invisible ghost was undoubtedly sitting, “your parents said we can drive together. They’ll be right behind us in—one of the other Priuses.”

Justin made straight for the car. He’d intended to check back on Clay behind him, but something on the windshield caught his attention instead. A piece of paper. With red on it. He approached the car slowly, and realized the bright red writing on the paper couldn’t be clearer. He just didn’t want to believe it.

_YOU TALK YOU DIE_

He didn’t want to show Clay, but there was no use in hiding it. “Jensen,” he called out, and presented the paper. It had been hastily written on the back of some real-estate flyer.

Clay still seemed to be in a world of his own. When he saw the writing, the haunted look on his face simply persisted.

Justin crumpled the piece of paper. Fuck it. They wanna play? He’ll play. Whatever his feelings towards Bryce, there was one his old friend sure as hell wasn’t going to make him feel anymore—fear.

“Let’s go,” he called towards Clay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: the tie--it can be super annoying sometimes when canon contradicts itself, haha.


	3. Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin finally delivers his testimony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny thing is...I forgot how much I had actually written for this first "work," or section, so I'm actually adding another chapter. This means this chapter is shorter than I originally intended, but the next one is quite long. I think it may be worth the wait. ;) Note: rating will go up significantly next chapter!

As he filed into the courtroom, Justin felt his face flush with heat and the back of his neck prickle with nerves. He sat next to Clay in the benches behind Mrs. Baker and Mr. Vasquez and silently willed himself not to sweat. The last thing he needed was to look like he was going through withdrawal on the witness stand.

Damn, he could use a hit right now.

Justin shoved the thought away and tried to take deep breaths as the jury entered. He caught Clay’s glance, who patted him gently on the arm.

“All rise.”

Justin stood with everyone as the bailiff announced the judge’s entrance. After relieving everyone, Judge Campbell called for the prosecution’s final witness.

“Your honor, we would like to call Justin Foley to the witness stand.”

Despite knowing exactly what was going to happen, Justin still felt the heat on his skin be demolished by chills as all eyes in the room seemed to gaze upon him. Nothing more sobering than becoming the center of attention. He rose slowly and stepped calmly towards the podium. As he stood before one of the court clerks, she asked him to repeat the oath that would officially swear him in, which he did before stepping onto the witness stand and taking his seat.

Mr. Vasquez approached the podium. “Justin, how would you describe your relationship with Bryce Walker?”

Justin swallowed. Suddenly, his mind seemed to blank, but he opened his mouth anyway and, somehow, the words began to flow.

“Bryce and I have been friends since the third grade. When the other kids would pick on me, for making fun of me for how I’d worn the same clothes from the day before, or how I smelled, I’d get into fights. I’d pick fights with them. Try to fight back. The first time I met Bryce, he stepped in and stopped one of these fights—and he wouldn’t rise to it when I tried to provoke him.

“I stayed away from people. I’d sit alone at lunch, at a table all my own—never having any food to eat—but that didn’t stop Bryce. He persisted. One time, he tried to offer me a sandwich, but I was stubborn, too. Despite my hunger, I was too proud to be somebody’s charity case. So Bryce took these Twinkies from one of the other kids who’d pick on me. I got the sandwich, and we split the Twinkies.

“I thought I learned what friendship was with Bryce. And friendship, it can be this really powerful thing. And friendship is—complicated. You find yourself doing things—you never thought you’d do. Because friendship, you commit to it. No matter what.

“I thought Bryce was a good guy. He did things for me, bought things for me, like shoes and clothes I couldn’t afford, but went out of his way to make it seem like they were actually hand-me-downs, or the wrong size his mom had gotten and that it wasn’t a big deal. Or at least give me an excuse to think that I wasn’t completely reliant on him for a lot of things. Or his charity case. But as we got older, things started to change, and I began to understand—friendship with Bryce wasn’t like a charity. It came with strings attached.”

“So what was friendship like with Mr. Walker?” asked Mr. Vasquez.

“Being friends with him, it was about loyalty, but it was also about fear.”

“And how would you describe Mr. Walker’s relationships with girls? Were they fear-based as well?”

“Yes, sir. They were like—conquests to him. He would always brag about what he’d done with girls. And then he’d call them sluts for hooking up with him.”

“And did he ever mention an ‘on-again, off-again’ relationship with Hannah Baker to you?”

“No, sir. Because it never happened. Maybe they hung out, but, there’s no way he would’ve hooked up with her and not told me about it.”

“Because he’d liked to brag, as you said?” Mr. Vasquez took a few steps towards the jury.

“Exactly.”

“How would you describe Hannah?”

“She was really kind, and funny. I liked her from the first time I saw her. We only had one real date, but it was—it was nice. I walked her home, then I went home. But I, I couldn’t sleep. And I got in, like, a—fight with my mom’s boyfriend. I texted Hannah and she said to come over.

“I snuck into her house, climbing up through her bedroom window. She got me an ice pack and some napkins as I told her what happened, and she offered to call someone, but I told her not to. I told her that the thing with my mom and her boyfriend would just run its course—like all the others. She tended to my wounds as we sat on her bed. She was really sweet to me. We joked about running into third-, or fourth- date territory—me seeing her room, having to crash at her place like that, and my messed-up home life. She was going to get a washcloth, or something, to keep tending to me like a nurse, but I must have passed out on her bed. She just let me sleep there. All night. She slept on her own floor.”

“What happened the next day?” Mr. Vasquez said.

“When I woke up the next morning, she let me hide out in her room until her parents left—so she could give me an opening to leave without too many questions. I asked her if she wanted to do this again sometime—I remember she offered to call it ‘date five’—and so she said yes, and we kissed. I started to leave, but I remember getting to the top of the stairs and looking back, and Hannah was peeking from behind the door. I laughed, and she laughed—we both laughed. As I walked out of her house, I couldn’t remember feeling this happy with anyone in a long time.”

Justin couldn’t help glancing towards Clay, but his expression was unreadable.

“But I ran into Bryce on my way to school. He was in his car, and he asked me why I wasn’t at home to ride with him that morning. I tried to come up with an excuse, saying I decided to walk, but I was coming from the wrong direction from my house. He knew I’d slept somewhere else—and he’d assumed it was _with_ someone else.

“I knew Bryce wasn’t gonna leave it alone. I knew I’d have to tell him something. I just—I don’t know why that was more important to me than doing right by Hannah. Friendship, I guess. Being a man. Wanting him to think I was more than I was, somehow. I eventually caved, and showed Bryce the photo I’d taken of Hannah on the slide. He immediately took my phone, and started sending it around. I tried to stop him, but the guys—the team—they were being guys and they stopped me, and before I knew it, it was too late.”

“Why do you think Bryce sent the photo?” Mr. Vasquez asked.

“Maybe Bryce sent it around because he was jealous. Or maybe because he’s just cruel. I dunno. I don’t know why people send around photos like that. Bryce did shi— _stuff_ like that all the time.

“The truth is, Bryce was never my friend. Because he doesn’t know what friendship is. There should be some things more than friendship. Some things you just won’t _do_ for a friend. I held onto my friendship with Bryce—because I didn’t think I _had_ anything else. I thought Bryce was all I had. But real friends will give you the bad news. The thing we’re all most afraid of, is losing our friends, is being all alone.

“Friendship is about sacrifice.”

~             ~             ~

Justin thought he had prepared himself to be torn into by the defense, but nothing could have prepared him for how Ms. Struhl had eviscerated him on the cross examination. He was telling the truth—why wasn’t it enough?

As he stood outside leaning against the front of the courthouse, Justin banged his head on the stone behind him. It was a stupid question. He knew exactly how it looked. Star athlete, one of the most popular kids at school, with a spotless record and rich parents to back him—against a homeless heroin addict who had nothing, and was too weak to stand up for his girlfriend when she needed him the most? Pathetic. Bryce may have been Goliath, but Justin was no David. Bryce had practically said it the day Justin came back to school for real. The day after the tapes got out.

He really need a hit.

Hearing the door open, Justin saw Clay come through the door. “Hey,” he said, walking towards Justin, “they just called two minutes. They’re about to make closing statements.”

Justin shook his head. “I can’t go back in there.”

“Right,” Clay said, nodding. “I might have guessed.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Justin went on, hanging his head. “I tried—I really tried.”

“Hey,” Clay said, grasping his shoulder, “you did all you could. You did a really brave thing, going up there. I know what that’s like. It’s their job to twist things around—it’s not your fault. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Don’t I?”

Clay sighed. “I know who might have the pictures.”

“Who?”

“Monty.”

“But, he’s been MIA.”

“I know who we should ask to find him.”

Justin nodded. “No offense, but I think we might need a plan C. I mean, I thought I would be a decent plan B, and look how that turned out.”

Clay gave a small smile. “You’re right. With our luck, we’ll need an E, F, and G, but anything beyond that—we’ll need Jessica.”

Justin took a deep breath. “How are we gonna change her mind?”

Clay crossed his arms, taking a moment to think. “We gotta show her that she’s not alone in this. Whatever she decides to do, we’ll stand by her, but we gotta convince her that she can do something that no one else can.”

“That sounds like a decent plan C.” Justin managed a half smile.

Clay looked towards the ground and put his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I never really got the chance to thank you for what you did at Bryce’s house—for, for stopping me from making a huge mistake. You, you really saved me.”

Justin shrugged. “I—you’d done the same for me, already. You’d saved me, when you and Tony came looking for me. Got me clean. I at least owed you for throwing up on your shoes.”

Clay laughed. “Now why’d you have to go and remind me of that?”

“‘Cause I like to ruin moments,” Justin said with a grin.

“Well, I swear to God, if you hit that shit again, I will kick your ass, Foley.”

They laughed. “I don’t doubt it, Jensen.”

They gazed at each other for a moment. Justin felt something gnaw at his stomach, but it passed when Clay spoke. “I—I gotta get back inside.”

“Yeah, it’s—probably been two minutes. I’ll be out here. Find me when we go talk to Scott.”

Clay nodded and trotted back inside the courthouse. Justin leaned back against the wall and looked out across the front steps onto the street. It was just a normal, sunny day. People were walking. Cars were driving by. Nothing was out of ordinary to reflect the growing pit hollowing out his stomach. Had he crossed a line with Jensen? Things were weird now, there was no denying that. But—what _was_ normal between them? Their whole situation—living in his house, getting through the withdrawal, hiding from Clay’s parents, getting found out—none of it could hardly be considered normal.

Justin wanted to think they were friends now, but that didn’t seem right. They were at least not-enemies, but that didn’t seem right, either. He’d had the cloud of his testimony to occupy his mind, but now that that had passed, he had nothing to steer his thoughts away from how it’d felt to hold Clay beside him last night, to rest against him, waiting for him to fall asleep. It seemed like forever ago, so it was hard to believe it was just that very morning.

They’d probably never mention or talk about it again. Justin was sure Clay wouldn’t go _there_ again, so there’d be no need for him to step in like that. That’s all it had been, right? He was just—stepping in. Being the person that Clay needed at that moment.

Damn, he needed another fucking hit.


	4. Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Justin finally wind down after a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I probably should say that the rating goes up significantly this chapter.
> 
> Secondly, the tumblr news has really gotten me down. I suppose I'm not surprised, but I'm still saddened by the turn of events surrounding the pending adult-content purge.
> 
> Anyway, this is one of the first of many moments that I have been working up to. Finally, I'm putting this out there!

Justin wasn’t sure how he had it in him to go over the heavy details of that night a second time in one day, but he had. It must have been Jessica, seeing her finally making the decision to tell her story. Or Alex, Zach, Courtney, and everyone turning up for her. In all, it had been a long fucking day, so after zoning out through dinner with Clay and his parents (no one really had much to say, anyway), he made straight for Clay’s room to get out of the suit and take a shower. The need for a hit hadn’t really gone away, so a cold shower was going to have to do.

After brushing his teeth, he stepped out of the shower and dried off with his towel from that morning before wrapping it around his waist and returning to Clay’s room. He found Clay picking up the suit from off the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” Justin said, “I didn’t mean to just—throw it on the floor like that.”

Clay smiled. “It’s all right, Justin, I’m not being OCD. You’re probably going to need this suit again tomorrow. I’ve only really got the one good suit right now, so…”

“You planning on wearing the same outfit tomorrow, too?”

Jensen smirked. “In case you haven’t noticed, my dad and I are pretty inept at laundry, so I’m really glad Mom is back.”

They shared a laugh.

“Well,” Justin said, making for the closet, “the shower’s free.” He wanted to kick himself. _Obviously. Stupid._ Ugh, why did he say that?

Clay nodded politely. “Right, thanks.”

Despite his internal cringing, Justin couldn’t help catching a glimpse over his shoulder of Clay stripping off his sweater. It caused his shirt to ride up, exposing the small of his back. He forced himself to focus on slipping on his own underwear and t-shirt just as Jensen stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. All right, technically he was putting on Clay’s clothes again, but laundry could wait another day or two. Mrs. Jensen apparently liked to be super-prepared about everything, too, so Clay had way more clothes than necessary—as if she had anticipated long periods where she wouldn’t be around.

Justin sighed. It made sense, with what she did for a living, but in spite of what they’d said that morning, the feeling that his presence had turned their lives upside down lingered. Mrs. Jensen was back now, though, and she was staying, so there was no point in rehashing old arguments.

He turned around to see that Clay had laid his own court outfit for the day next to the suit—on the couch. Damn it, Jensen. Justin wanted nothing more than to crash, so where was he supposed to do that? Clay had this thing about re-hanging worn clothes in the closet, and there really wasn’t another flat surface large enough in the room, so…

Justin supposed he could just move the clothes, anyway, but that would just annoy Clay. He looked towards the bed. Had he—had Jensen done that on purpose? Had he just assumed they were going to—share the bed, again?

He cautiously sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t deny it—the bed was a lot comfier than the couch. And there wasn’t necessarily anything homo about two guys sharing a bed. But—the thought of being next to Clay again like that began to stir a reaction—down there—and it caused Justin to fling himself off of the bed. He began to pace. _No, no, no. Not now. Stop it,_ he yelled at himself.

The door opened. Justin looked towards it, panicked, just as Clay entered the room, a towel around his waist. He gave Justin an odd look.

“Are you okay?”

Justin turned back around. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” The fear had mostly deflated the unwanted reaction, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. It would give Clay the chance to dress in private, in any case. Justin sat down at the desk.

“Listen, about last night,” Clay began.

So they were going to talk about it, after all.

“I’m not gay,” Justin blurted.

He heard Clay take a step towards him. “What?”

Justin turned around. Clay had put on pretty much the same thing—dark boxer-briefs and a white tee. They matched.

“What?” Justin mimicked.

“I—didn’t say you were gay. I’m not gay, either. I was just going to say, you don’t have to keep sleeping on the couch. The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

“That still seems pretty gay to me, Jensen.”

Clay flung his head back and sighed. “Oh my God, Justin. Fine! I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed.”

Justin looked away. “I was fine on the couch,” he said quietly.

“No, you weren’t. You know how many times I’ve woken up to the sound of you shuffling on that thing? It squeaks!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a light sleeper!”

Clay stepped in front of Justin and leaned against the desk. “Justin—what’s going on?”

“Why would you sleep on the floor, anyway?” Justin snapped. When Clay merely looked at him, he took a breath, and lowered his voice. “You sure you’re not pissed at me? With what I said about Hannah, today?”

Jensen shook his head. “No, I’m not. She was kind to you, and helped you out of a tough spot, which doesn’t surprise me at all. And knowing that doesn’t make me think any less of you. The jury might have doubted you, but I have a better understanding now—what it was like with you and Bryce.”

“Shit, Clay,” Justin said, before a yawn overtook him. As he rubbed his eyes, he went on, “I’m sorry, man. It’s been a long day.”

“I know. Which is why—you should just come to bed, so we can sleep.” Justin could only manage a skeptical look. “Look,” Clay continued, “you did a really nice thing for me last night. I—I’m glad you did it. It felt really nice to—to just be able to sleep, and not worry about anything. Having you next to me—made that happen, somehow. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get another good night’s sleep. And I bet you would, too.”

Justin smiled. “Jesus, Clay. If you wanted to sleep with me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”

He burst out laughing as Clay shoved him against the chair and ran past him to leap onto the bed, landing on his stomach. “I’m done! Good night!” he shouted into one of the pillows.

Despite the spectacle, Justin couldn’t bring himself to leave the chair. When Clay turned his head and began giving him the stink eye, Justin threw up his hands and got off the chair. “Fine!” he said, flipping off the light before launching himself onto the bed and burrowing under the covers. Clay did the same, giggling, and for a while, they both couldn’t stop giggling.

“Will you stop giggling?” Justin commanded.

“Me? _You_ stop!”

“This isn’t funny!” Justin continued to laugh.

“Nothing funny about this at all,” Clay agreed, giggling.

They must have gone on like that for several minutes. After finally composing themselves, they found themselves on their backs, both staring at the ceiling. Clay looked towards him, and Justin met his gaze. There was probably a solid foot between them.

“You’ve seen that hot tub meme, right?” Clay asked.

“What hot tub meme?”

Jensen scoffed. “Jesus Christ, Justin. Will you just turn around and let me spoon you?”

Justin felt a fireball burst inside of him. He did as he was told, and when Clay brought his arms around him, Justin let out a long exhale, like he could finally breath again.

There was that feeling again. Was it—peace? Tranquility? It was—nice. No, more than that. It was—liberating, like the entire day was building up to this moment. And it was completely worth it.

And, fuck, he was getting hard again.

He tried to ignore it, but as he felt Clay’s warmth against him, and as Clay held him tighter, Justin realized that his reaction wasn’t going to quit this time.

“Listen, Clay,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” he uttered.

 “If we do this, I guess it’s—only fair I warn you.”

“What?” he uttered.

“You can’t—hold me responsible if, if certain parts of me—react.”

Justin felt Clay’s hold on him loosen. He looked back to see Clay gazing at him over his shoulder.

“Are you,” he began, “are you saying—are you saying you’re attracted to me?”

Something burst inside of Justin. “Fuck!” he cried out, freeing himself from Clay’s arms and flying from the bed. He covered his face, shaking his head. “No, no, no,” he cried, “I’m sorry. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, please.”

“I’m not freaking out,” he heard Clay say. “Justin,” he went on, and felt a cautious pair of hands gently grasp onto his shoulders. “Justin, it’s okay. I’m not freaking out.”

Justin turned to face him. The dark didn’t help in deciphering the myriad of emotions clearly running through the boy’s head, but Clay’s concern, at least, was clear.

“Okay,” Clay said, “maybe I’m freaking out a little bit, but that’s okay. I, I wasn’t really expecting this.”

Justin swallowed. “Neither was I.”

Clay didn’t look away, and neither could Justin. “So… We can’t just—share a bed, then, without—without you getting, getting excited, then?”

“Not when you’re that close to me.”

Clay continued to gaze at him. He must have been working out his own thoughts inside his head. Justin was merely frozen, unable to think. He could barely breathe.

“So— _are_ you attracted to me?” Clay eventually asked.

Justin threw up his hands. “No! I told you, I’m not gay! It’s just—my head is all over the place right now. I don’t know why I, my body, keeps reacting this way.”

“When was the last time you jerked off?”

He stared at Clay. That was definitely _not_ a question he was expecting from _him._ “Do you really wanna know?” he said meekly.

“Well, if it’s—been a while, maybe you’re just pent up! If you just rub one out, things will go back to normal.”

Justin shook his head. He couldn’t help chuckling. “Dude, I can’t believe we’re talking about this. I feel like we just fell into some alternate universe or something.”

Clay shrugged. “Well—you’re a guy, and I’m a guy, and I’m _assuming_ we both know what that’s like, so, what’s so wrong with talking about this?”

“Because it’s weird!”

“Why is it weird, then?” Clay demanded. “I didn’t think you’d be this much of a prude.”

“I’m not a prude!”

Jensen shook his head mockingly. “Clearly.”

“You just said I should jerk off—how exactly should I go about doing that?”

Clay looked down at his right hand and made it into a fist before—

“Okay, very funny, Jensen. So you expect me to just go rub one out in the bathroom while you know exactly what I’m doing?”

“Or, I could just give you the room,” he offered, shrugging, opening up his hands.

Justin shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 _“I’m_ being ridiculous?” Clay said, pressing a hand to his chest. “You’re the one freaking out because you can’t answer a simple question.”

“Why are you so set on us sharing a bed, anyway?”

“I told you already—because it felt nice! Sharing a bed _doesn’t_ have to be sexual.”

Justin shook his head. “Seriously? So cuddling and spooning aren’t sexual—are you kidding me?”

“I did it with my parents when I was a little kid. Nothing sexual about basic human contact.”

“Well, then, I guess I don’t know what that’s like.” Justin looked away. “Besides, we’re not little kids.”

Clay took a few steps towards him. “Justin. It’s _okay_ if you’re attracted to me. Really—”

“I’m _not_ attracted to you!” Justin spat.

As Clay eyed him, a smirk partially drew up his lips as a daring look transformed his face. “All right. Here’s what I’m gonna do, then: I’m gonna take off my shirt, I’m gonna get naked, and then I’m gonna start pleasuring myself. You can leave the room, you can watch—hell, you can even join in. Your choice. Fair warning.”

Justin would have laughed had he not nearly choked on his own tongue. “You—you wouldn’t do that.”

In response, Jensen pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor.

“Clay,” Justin uttered.

The boy held up his hands. “I’m—not wearing a lot of clothes, so, it’s—not gonna take long for me to get naked.”

Justin could only stare at him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, but now, the skin across Clay’s torso seemed to glow under the moonlight. He wasn’t ripped like any of the guys on the baseball team, but he wasn’t skinny, either. His porcelain complexion belied a taut strength that had to match his bold personality. He was beautiful.

Clay then pulled off his underwear and kicked it aside, not bothering to hide his junk. He was half hard. Naked.

 _Naked_ naked _._ With a wild bush of hair.

 _God damn, Jensen,_ he wanted to say, but he still couldn’t speak. Only swallow. Clay merely smirked at him before turning around—giving Justin a clear view of his tight little white ass—and making for the bed. He sat on the floor and leaned against the bed, his eyes fixed on Justin from across the room. After a moment, Clay put a hand on his chest and started to rub himself as his right hand slid downward to bring himself to full mast. He shut his eyes and turned his head away as he began stroking himself.

Justin’s erection came back with a vengeance. He could’ve sworn he’d felt all the blood in his body rush to his cock—he’d had to, since he was now feeling a little lightheaded at the moment. He was still frozen in place, though, unable to move. _Oh, God—_ the _noises_ Clay began to make… He wasn’t jacking off at full speed. The gentle grunts, the stifled moans—the asshole was clearly making a show of it.

“Justin,” Clay uttered. It was barely a whisper, but Justin heard it inside his head. “Please.”

He was across the room and had his lips pressed against Clay’s mouth before Justin even realized he had moved. He clasped his hands behind Clay’s ears and desperately mashed his soft, wet lips with his own in a frantic attempt to press the word _asshole, asshole,_ over and over again into his mouth. When Justin felt Clay grab his hair and press a hand to his chest, he instinctively brought his own hand down across Clay’s chest, thumbing a nipple, before caressing his quivering stomach.

Justin wasn’t sure if Clay was getting the message, so he jut out his tongue and knocked away Clay’s lips before invading his mouth. Finally, Clay seemed to stumble, and the noise that escaped through his throat was priceless.

Justin drew back slightly. Now that Clay seemed to be the one without his wits, Justin couldn’t help the smirk pushing up against his cheeks.

“Okay,” Jensen sighed, “if you won’t say it, then I’ll be the first one to say it. Plot twist—I’m attracted to you.”

Justin grinned. “So when did that happen?”

“You tell me.”

“Honestly? I have no fucking clue.” He looked down at Clay’s throbbing erection. “But I’m attracted to you, too.” He grabbed Clay’s erection and squeezed, making the boy moan and tremble. The thrill that shot through Justin was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. “Yup,” he whispered into his ear, “no fucking doubt about it.”

“Wait,” Clay said. Justin let go of him. “Get naked,” he went on. “Get on the bed.”

Justin did as he was told. After sliding off his shirt and prying off his underwear, Justin slid into bed before Clay climbed up and brought their bodies together. The thrill Justin had felt earlier returned tenfold as he felt Clay’s heat and weight on top of him, and as they wrapped their arms around each other’s bodies and intertwined their legs together, Justin nearly cried out when Clay pressed their erections together and the cold, slick excitement leaking from Clay’s dick jabbed his stomach and began intermingling with his own pre-excitement. He held onto Clay as they made out and continued to spar with their tongues, but when Clay began grinding against him, Justin could no longer keep himself coordinated.

“Oh, shit,” Justin cried out. How could something so basic like that feel so good?

He began grinding against Clay in response. “Oh, fuck,” Clay sighed.

“Yeah,” Justin encouraged.

“Oh, fuck,” the boy repeated, this time more urgently. “Fuck, Justin… If you… I can’t—”

“Yeah, Clay, go ahead, go ahead!”

“Fuck!”

Justin looked down in time to see it happen—he wanted to see Clay shoot, and he did. Like a fucking geyser. While Clay cried out, the first blast shot so hard it splattered nearly all the way up to Justin’s neck, and the second, third, and fourth salvos coated his stomach in sizable gobs. Justin was so hard and so close he spread Clay’s come down to lube up his own dick and it only took a few brisk strokes to follow Clay over the edge. Justin swung his head back against the pillow as the orgasm seized him, and it surged throughout his whole body as he felt his balls empty themselves of nearly a week’s worth of come. He had shouted as he came—he couldn’t help it—and he faintly remembered Clay moaning along with him. Justin really hoped they hadn’t been _too_ loud…

Damn, who knew you could come like that, just by rubbing two dicks together? Justin gazed up at Clay as they caught their breaths. Jensen was trembling. And, Justin realized, so was he. He glanced down, and he saw that he had hit Clay across the chest, too, but most of it had landed on himself. It was a big mess.

As the smell of their congealing come began to fill the room, Justin forced a laugh. “Shit, Clay. We made a fucking mess.”

Clay burst out laughing. “Yeah, that we did! Let me get a towel.” With a grunt, he got off the bed, and Justin watched him walk towards the closet—mainly to catch another glimpse of his ass. Clay retrieved a towel from the hamper and wiped the come from his chest as he walked back towards the bed.

The smirk on his face had returned. “You’ve got the goofiest grin on your face,” Clay said.

“Well, I blame you for that, Jensen.” He snickered when Clay threw the towel at him. He didn’t have the energy to really try to catch it, so it landed on his face. “Aw, dude!” he whined, feigning disgust.

“Says the guy _drenched_ in come.”

Clay stood by the bed as Justin toweled himself. When he was mostly clean, he handed the towel back to Clay, who threw it back in the closet hamper.

“Oh shit!” Justin cried out as Clay sprinted back across the room and flung himself back into bed. Clay rested on his elbows and leaned in to give him another kiss. Justin obliged, meeting him half way. This time, their kiss was tender, slow, and sweet.

When they parted, Clay said, “So. We did _that_.”

“Yeah, we did. You gotta admit, that was pretty gay.”

Clay nodded. “Yes,” he said, enunciating slowly, “it was pretty gay indeed.”

After looking at each other for a moment, they burst out laughing. Clay settled into a more comfortable position beside Justin and they nestled together under the covers.

“So,” Justin said, “was—was that your first, uh, time…?”

Clay hesitated, then scoffed. “What? No! _Really,_ Justin? You think I haven’t—?”

“I don’t know! I was just asking!”

“I _have_ had sex before, you know.”

Justin suppressed a laugh. “So you and Skye…?”

Clay smacked his arm with the back of his hand. “What do you think?”

Clearing his throat, Justin said, “I guess you two were really serious, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, we were. Before she went to live with family in another state, at least.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“So you did finally talk to her, then?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“When?”

“A few days ago, when you first started back at school. She’d gotten her phone back that day. It was also the day we said goodbye.” Clay shuffled against him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that day.”

Justin looked at Clay for a moment. “Hey, don’t mention it.” He leaned into Clay a little. “Well, I guess I should have said, was that your first time with a _guy?”_

“Yes. Indeed it was. You?”

“Yes.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Hey!” Justin said, smacking his arm back.

Clay give him a look. “Dude, come on, you know that’s not an insult, right?”

Justin let out a deep groan as he yawned. “Yeah, I know, I know. But still, I have _never_ looked at another guy like that, or thought about another guy in that way. At least, not until tonight. Jerk.” Clay chuckled. “Have you?” Justin asked.

Clay turned to lie on his back. “Maybe. I guess—when those rumors started freshman year, I was so terrified at the time that I completely pushed those kinds of thoughts from my head. Or I tried to. Even after the rumors died down, I was so used to it that I just—kept on coasting, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely like girls. But, there’s always been that part of me that’s liked guys, too.”

Justin smiled. “So were there any guys you not-liked, or would not-think about specifically, or…?” When Clay didn’t answer, Justin poked him again. “Come on, dude—there’s gotta be someone!”

“You mean, aside from you?”

“Yes, aside from me. I don’t count.”

Clay exhaled deeply. “I guess…”

“Come on,” Justin insisted. He continued to poke Clay.

“Fine—Jeff!”

Justin let out an excited cough. “Yeah, I can totally see that. So you never…?”

“No, he was seeing Leah, remember?”

“So?”

Clay gave him another look. “I’m not a hoe, Justin. Besides, he was definitely straight.”

“Well, I thought _I_ was straight, but—here we are.”

“Projecting, much?”

“Maybe. I really miss him.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Their eyes met again. Justin smiled at Clay, and he smiled back. “Man, I’m beat,” Justin said.

“Yeah, we should probably get some sleep.”

“Turn around and let me spoon you, will you?”

Grinning, Clay did just that. As Justin brought his arms around the boy, he felt the caress of slumber relax his entire body. After nuzzling into Clay’s warmth, all Justin could think of was that feeling of rightness—of fitting in—settling upon him. _Yeah,_ he thought, _this was it._


	5. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay wake up in bed together, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interpretation is everything! What's a fic for, if not re-framing canonic events in a new light? With the addition of a chapter to this work, this one's a bit shorter than I had planned, but I ultimately decided this was worth its own chapter.

Justin opened his eyes. As his vision adjusted to the faint sunlight illuminating the room, he was struck with a powerful sense of déjà vu as he remembered where he was, and then felt the weighty warmth beside him. He was on his back, so he looked over at Clay, who was resting on his stomach. The boy was breathing steadily, slightly verging on the occasional snore. Justin couldn’t help the smile that swept across his cheeks. Clay’s arm was in a slightly awkward position, he was drooling a little, and Justin had somehow wound up with most of the covers again, but goddamn, did Jensen look adorable at that moment.

Another wave of emotion swelled inside of Justin. He clung to it, and tried to relish it. It was liberating for him, to finally think these thoughts, to finally let himself make these observations. He was attracted to Clay. Clay was attracted to him. They’d said it aloud the night before. Justin might never have felt this way about a guy before, but he was feeling them with Clay.

Then, a niggling of doubt. Maybe _never_ wasn’t the right word. No, it didn’t quite fit, like the shoes he had to make do with as a little kid. Maybe—he might never have been attracted to another guy before, but he might have recognized it. The eyes, or the look, Justin supposed they called it. He could remember a time with Ryan, and with Tony, that he had guessed they were gay before they’d actually come out. Maybe Ryan was a little easier than Tony on purely superficial terms, but he’d just had this sense with them—a sixth sense, perhaps. Or even gaydar.

Fuck that, there was no such thing. Or maybe there was. Maybe it took one—to know one. He’d heard once that sexuality was a spectrum, a slider, rather than a switch. Sure, it kinda felt like he’d flipped a switch and fell into bed with Clay fucking Jensen, but that’s not what happened. Not really. Or was it?

Clay had put a lot on the fucking line for him. Justin, who had two whole fucking tapes out of the thirteen. Who’d nearly torn Clay’s fucking family apart like he’d done his own. Who shot up and used again, and nearly drowned in his own fucking vomit. Who was ready to run all over again with a deceptively large wad of cash with which he’d only blow through in a few weeks. Who’d ignored the string of frantic texts like a douche.

But still, there it was. _I need you. Please._ Looking back at Clay, Justin gently unwound himself from the covers—gracefully, this time—and stepped to grab his phone from the desk (of course, another gift from Clay’s family) before settling back into bed. Justin couldn’t help pulling up the conversation again and thumbing back through the history.

_This is stupid. Text me back._

_I need to at least know you’re alive._

_Really? After all of this you’re just going to disappear?_

_Whatever. Do what you want._

_Just call me. We can figure this out._

_Justin, text or call me, please._

_Just want to know you’re okay._

_Are you getting these messages?_

_I need you. Please._

Even after all that, Clay still came for him. In that moment, it was probably the first time he’d felt it. Justin still didn’t quite understand it completely, but the best he could do now to describe it was—relief. And guilt. And—belonging. And responsibility. And joy and sorrow and regret and fear and all the other shit he’d tried to forget. Justin had a choice to make, and he’d chosen to run, like he had so many times before. It was his default coping mechanism. It was how he’d survived this long. Despite what Mr. Porter had said, Justin had managed to convince himself he was doing the right thing, and yet this time, when he tried to run, something happened that had never happened before. Someone had come after him. Or at least, they were trying to. They were calling him back. Someone wasn’t giving up. Someone _needed_ him.

And that someone was Clay.

Justin felt a little sappy admitting it, but it was the truth. No one had ever said those words to him before in any meaningful capacity, let alone directly. Okay, it was in a text, but the message was the same. And that was still after all those times he had failed to help Clay. Not just with the stuff Jensen had asked for, but the stuff that Justin had—chosen to ignore.

No, he hadn’t meant to ignore them, but, fuck it, the result was the same. Clay was talking to himself. That was what Justin told himself, at least, the first time he’d heard Clay through the door. And he kept telling himself that when he’d heard the yelling not just from Mr. and Mrs. Jensen in the kitchen, but from upstairs, too, after Clay had stormed past him. And the time Clay kept begging for the truth—kept begging _her_ for the truth.

People didn’t like their crazy pointed out to them. But, Clay wasn’t crazy. He was grieving. So Justin convinced himself to let Clay be, to let him work through it on his own, to let the grief run its course.

Of course, grief made people do really fucking stupid shit, so when Justin had heard _that_ voicemail on his phone to meet Clay at Vaughn’s Hill, he couldn’t believe that he was feeling it again—panic, regret, failure, disgust; that whole fucking ball of shit that the heroin had helped him to swat away—what he’d felt that night outside of Jessica’s room—that something fucking terrible was going to happen to someone he loved and he was powerless to stop it…

Was that it? Did he, did he love Clay? With Jessica…

No, no, the thought was too scary to entertain. With what happens to people he loves—

But he wasn’t powerless. He _could_ do something about it. Justin wasn’t sure how many traffic laws he had broken to get to Clay, but he had been simultaneously relieved and terrified when he saw the gun in Clay’s hand as he drove past him into Bryce’s massive front driveway. Thank the fuck he had gotten there in time.

And yet, of course, this had been his fault again. _Again_. In the fucking first place to begin with. Justin knew Clay was being tormented by Hannah’s demons and had done nothing about it. And now they were there in front of Bryce’s house, with Clay and a fucking gun. In his panic, Justin thought it was the gun he’d stolen from Seth, but after a better look, he realized it wasn’t—but the safety was off, and the residue on the barrel could only mean it had recently been fired. What had Clay done? What was he planning to do?

Justin couldn’t believe Clay would bring the barrel towards his own head. How could he make her stop? Make _who_ stop? Justin was out of his freaking mind with fear and panic, it had to have been only the adrenaline that had kept him calm enough to speak. It kept him slow, too, thankfully—his movements—and gave him enough time for him to figure out what he was, and wasn’t, going to do.

He’d get the gun away from Clay. He’d cock it (and of course it was loaded), and get that fucker Bryce back in the house. He’d get Clay back in the car. Back to the house. Safely.

Monty following them was a complication, but Clay had seemed calm enough in the car. Perhaps the sudden tail was enough of a distraction to snap Clay back to his senses. Or maybe he was in shock. They probably both were. What Justin hadn’t planned on doing was winding up in bed with Clay.

Justin set his phone gently on the floor and brought the covers up slowly over Clay. He had run out of ideas to help Jensen, and he had let him down more than he’d come through for him. That sliver of doubt had quickly blown away the wave of relative bliss he’d felt when he had first awoken. Maybe he didn’t really know how to help Clay. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was only confusing Clay even more. But, couldn’t this help, giving him something else to think about? Something else to focus on, other than the words of a dead girl inside his head?

He had to try. Like he’d said to Jensen, he was done doing fucked up shit. Whether this would qualify as more fucked up shit, Clay would help him decide, but only if he was honest with the boy. Well, more honest than he had been. If he could help it—damn it, he wouldn’t let Clay down again.

But with his luck, he probably wouldn’t be able to help it.

Clay made a noise, an airy grunt, and began to stir. Justin turned on his side to face him and watched as the boy yawned, then stretched.

“Jesus,” Clay exclaimed when he met Justin’s gaze. Yeah, there was that déjà vu again.

Justin swallowed. “Hey.”

Clay surprised him with a smile. “Hey.” Unable to help himself, Justin laughed. “Were you watching me sleep?” Clay asked.

“No, I wasn’t. I swear.”

Clay grinned in response. “Weirdo. How are you such an early bird?”

Justin shrugged. “I guess I’m just—used to waking up with the sun.”

He itched to touch Clay. To hold his hand. But, the doubt. He was afraid. Clay gazed at him, and he could only gaze back.

Finally, Clay glanced under the covers. “Wow, right. We are—naked. Together. In bed.”

Biting his lip, Justin asked, “Do you regret what we did?” Clay looked at him. “It’s—it’s okay if you do, I mean—”

“No, I don’t,” Clay interrupted him. “I don’t regret what we did, no.” He sighed and grinned as his cheeks began to redden.

“What?” When Clay turned on his back, Justin moved closer, smiling. “What? Tell me!”

“I don’t regret what we did, but I might—regret how I went about it.”

Justin grasped his shoulder. “Dude, you shouldn’t. It felt really fucking great—even if it wasn’t, you know, _sex_ sex in the, in the usual sense.”

“Mutual masturbation?” Clay offered.

“With our dicks? Sure.” Justin laughed.

Clay laughed with him. “No, I mean, God,” he began rubbing his face. “I got naked in front of you and started jacking off! Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, it was hot,” Justin said, nudging him.

“It was sexual harassment,” Clay said, looking at him, a nervous grin lingering on his face.

“It’s only harassment if it’s unwanted. But let me tell you a secret.” Justin wrapped his arm across Clay’s chest and snuggled closer to him. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I wanted it.”

Clay let out a low moan as Justin began to leisurely rub his semi-hard cock against the boy’s thigh. “Well then,” he sighed, “your secret’s safe with me.”

He turned to face Justin and leaned in for a kiss. A grunt escaped Justin as their lips met and began to tango once more, just like the night before. Justin found it utterly surreal. He was getting so turned on as they brought their bodies together, their legs intertwining while they held onto the back of each other’s heads as they made out. The tantalizing brushes of skin-to-skin contact across their torsos made the heat surging down to Justin’s crotch searing, while at the same time, the goosebumps making the hair on his forearms stand on end only made him want to thrust his tongue into Clay’s mouth even more. But, he was taking it slow, letting Clay take the lead, although there was no denying the breakneck speed at which Justin had gotten so hard, so fast.

Mercifully, Clay slid his hand down Justin’s chest, his stomach—and grabbed onto Justin’s desperate erection. “Oh, fuck,” Justin sighed, Clay squeezing his shaft, so he reached down to return the favor and took hold of Clay’s equally throbbing member.

With it suddenly becoming impossible to coordinate their mouths and their hands simultaneously, they pressed their foreheads together and quietly inhaled each other’s grunts, sighs, and breaths as they stroked each other. Justin was so engulfed in Clay’s raw, piney scent he couldn’t speak—only articulate the occasional nonsense syllable at how good Clay was making him feel. And the sight of Clay with his hand reaching down—jacking him off—and Justin’s hand, likewise reaching down—stroking Clay’s cock—was quickly pushing him towards the edge.

“Do you need lube?” Clay whispered.

“You have _lube?”_ Justin was incredulous.

“I have—lotion.”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t need it,” he breathed. “Just, just keep doing what you’re doing. I’m close.”

“Do you wanna come on me this time?”

Oh God. “Yes.”

Clay let go of him and grabbed onto Justin’s waist. “Get on top of me,” he uttered.

Justin threw back the covers and eagerly assumed the position, using the chance to combine their slick excitement once more, directly. “Oh God,” Clay moaned as Justin pressed their cocks together. His moans only intensified as Justin began grinding against him, so he pecked the boy on the lips.

“You’re making too much noise,” Justin said with a grin.

“Well,” Clay said, sighing, “I’m too close to help myself.” He mashed their lips together and gripped Justin’s cock. He pried his mouth open and began to chase Justin’s tongue with his own while the bastard took control and rapidly quickened his strokes. Justin was leaking so much he was already practically lubed up, so there was nothing to grab to keep him from going over the edge. The orgasm winded Justin, who let out a scream into Clay’s mouth as the pleasure exploded inside of him, and he shook as he felt the thick blast of come surge through his dick.

Not to be outdone, Justin grabbed onto Clay’s erection and began stroking him like he was still stroking himself, eager to prolong the sweet bliss of the orgasm. He returned the favor and pressed their mouths together again, and it was pretty much like grabbing onto Clay and pulling him over the edge with him. With just a few rapid, hard strokes, Clay was crying out with only Justin’s mouth to muffle his groans and was similarly trembling beneath him as he came.

Gradually, as the pleasure began to subside and they let go of each other, Justin raised himself up slightly to meet Clay’s eyes. They gazed at each other as they caught their breaths, and after a moment, Justin let himself collapse onto Clay, smushing their come together between their torsos. Clay laughed, wrapping his arms around him, as Justin let out a long, deep sigh.

“You’re heavier than you look.”

“Am I crushing you?”

Clay hugged him tighter. “No, this feels good.”

Justin savored the feeling of having Clay holding him like this. When he finally felt Clay loosen his grip, Justin slid off and rolled onto his back beside the boy. When Clay began eyeing the congealed mess on their bodies, Justin laughed.

“We seem to have developed a come problem.”

“Yes, I’m afraid we have,” Clay remarked. “And unfortunately, I don’t foresee a solution in sight.” Jensen turned and leaned in to kiss him. Although Justin couldn’t stop laughing, he tried to kiss him back, anyway.

After Clay nestled beside him, Justin brought his arm around him. For a while, they didn’t speak. As the sunlight grew more intense, however, and as the room got brighter, they both seemed to know they couldn’t stay in bed all day. If only…

“Do you think we’ll actually get the verdict today?” Justin said.

Clay cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. My mom thinks we’ll get one sooner rather than later, though, since the judge had the jury sequestered.”

“Like, they can’t do anything until they reach a decision?”

“Kind of. They get put into a hotel and are pretty much herded around like cattle so they can’t come into contact with the outside world.”

“Shit. Well, I guess that makes sense. This trial is all anybody seems to be able to talk about these days. I’ll be glad when it’s finally over.”

Clay pulled back slightly so that he could look at Justin. “What do you think they’re gonna decide?”

Justin sighed. “I don’t know. I honestly have no clue. But whatever the verdict, we still have Bryce to take care of. Hopefully the police move on that son of a bitch soon.”

“They will,” Clay said, nodding. “There’s too much attention already with the trial. It would look really bad if they didn’t.”

Clay had been so relaxed earlier, Justin wished now that he hadn’t brought up the trial. There he went again, ruining moments.

“So,” Justin went on, “obviously we’re not going to school today.”

“Hell no.”

“What do you wanna do instead?”

Clay smiled. “You wanna see a movie, maybe?”

Justin smiled back. “Sure.”

Jensen had turned slightly red. Justin had no idea why. “Okay, well, we should probably get cleaned up, then.”

“Oh, I see,” Justin said, grinning, “you wanna get in the shower together?”

“Oh, that’s—that’s _way_ too risky, Justin.” Clay grinned back. “No, you should go first. You’re the early bird, after all.”

“All right, all right,” Justin said, swinging his legs off the bed. As he stood, he went on, “I suppose we need to keep up appearances.”

“I don’t—I’m not opposed to them knowing, eventually,” Clay said quickly. “Just, just maybe not when we’re in the shower together, maybe?”

Justin chuckled. “I know, I’m just messing with you, Jensen.” As he made for the closet to grab a towel, he caught Clay eyeing him as he made himself decent. “What?” Justin asked with another brief laugh.

“Nothing,” Clay said, shaking his head as he smiled up towards the ceiling.

After closing the door behind him, Justin was hit with a realization as he entered the hallway. Going to the movies—were they, was that a date?


	6. The Crestmont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay see a movie.

Clay’s parents had been unusually quiet that morning. Justin at first thought that they’d heard them during their—extracurricular activities at dawn, but when Mrs. Jensen brought up Mr. Vasquez and that she hadn’t heard from him that morning, he realized it was the verdict that was hanging over everyone’s head. Even Mr. Jensen’s. The most he’d said was to ask Clay what they planned on doing for the day. At first, the boy had shrugged.

“Probably see a movie or something,” he’d said.

Mr. Jensen had then looked to Justin. He had kind of wanted to stay back and continue reading the _Star Wars_ comic he’d started from Clay’s collection, but Justin had nodded instead. “Same.”

They’d gotten dressed and Justin had joked about dressing up to go to the movies, but Clay had said they needed to be ready at a moment’s notice when the jury reached their verdict. They didn’t say much during the drive, and Justin wondered if it was because of the trial, or—something else. For whatever reason, it was like things had gotten weird again as soon as they had gone downstairs for breakfast. Like they had left the bubble of Clay’s room and had to cross over into the real world again.

Justin was probably just overthinking things. He was pulling a Clay—and it was like they had switched places again, or rather, switched roles. He was happy to be hanging out with Clay, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jensen had suddenly wanted to be left alone.

And there it was again, prickling the back of his head. Maybe Justin was projecting, because he probably and very suddenly wanted a hit. Justin spent most of the ride trying to put the thought out of his head, so he was surprised when Clay pulled into the lot behind the Crestmont. 

“Oh,” Justin said. He couldn’t help himself.

Clay had just put the car into park. “Is this—is this okay?”

Justin swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.”

Clay sighed. “I thought you knew where we were going.”

“No, really, dude,” Justin insisted, “it’s fine. I just forgot, the only other theater is all the way across town. Too far from the courthouse.”

Jensen pursed his lips. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s cool, really.” When Clay gave him a look, Justin went on, “Okay. Maybe—just a little? I mean, wasn’t this pretty much your and Hannah’s place?”

“Yeah, but, it’s also pretty much the only theater in town, like you said. But we can go somewhere else. I don’t mind. There’s probably nothing decent playing right now, anyway.”

“Look, I get it. You need a few hours to be distracted by something. Honestly, I do, too.” He smiled at him. “Let’s go see the fucking movie.” Clay laughed.

They stepped out of the car and approached the ticket booth. Clay seemed happy to be thoroughly unimpressed. “Well,” he said, “we’ve got an alleged cult classic, _The Fault in Our Stars_ , _Love Actually,_ and—some foreign film. French.”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t know any of these movies.”

“Well, we’re looking at a zombie flick, a cancer movie, a rom-com, or the French one. Take your pick.”

“How about the zombie one?”

Chuckling, Clay shook his head. “Of course you’d pick that one.”

“What? Okay, how about the French one, then? It’ll have subtitles, right?”

Jensen approached the teller. “Two for _Bride of the Undead_ , please.”

When he handed Justin a ticket and they went inside, Justin said, “I take it you don’t like zombie movies.”

Clay gave a brief laugh. “Well, I agree with you. Zombies sound like the least torture out of the three.”

The parking lot had virtually every spot open and the lobby was deserted save for the trainee behind the counter, so it was no surprise that the auditorium was empty. Justin followed Clay to a row near the back and they sat down. After just two previews, the movie began, and Justin was astonished to see that it was in black and white.

“How old is this movie?”

“It’s actually from the eighties, but I think this one is going for a deliberately retro feel. Fun fact—I’m pretty sure this has a zero on Rotten Tomatoes.”

“Aww, you let me pick the worst one?” Justin exclaimed.

Jensen smirked. “If I have to suffer through this, so do you.” They laughed.

Despite not getting any snacks, Justin suddenly had the urge to pee. He tried to ignore it, but when the girl let the guy eat her brains because they were allegedly in love, he turned to Clay.

“I need to pee.”

Clay snorted a laugh. “Okay? Go pee, then.”

“You sure I won’t miss anything important? The guy eating her brain was a complete surprise. Something I would have never seen from a mile away.”

He gave Justin a flat smile. “Nothing worth pissing in your pants for. Promise.”

Honestly, it seemed rude to leave Clay by himself for some reason, but Justin stood up anyway and left the auditorium. They weren’t on a date, right? Okay, they were arguably dressed like it, but that was for court. Clay had asked him to choose the movie, went with it without question, and had paid for the tickets, but that was just because they were there to kill time, right?

When he got to the urinal, suddenly, Justin couldn’t relieve himself. “You gotta be kidding me,” he uttered. The only time this happened was when the bathroom had too many guys around, but this one was completely empty, so why the hell was he so nervous? The urge for a hit had passed, so was he just overthinking things again? Was it from the trial? Somehow, he felt like he was letting Clay down again—as if his inability to piss at that moment was inexplicably tied to the outcome of their not-date—so when he reminded himself that Jensen was waiting for him, the dam finally opened. And the release was glorious.

After zipping himself back up and washing his hands, Justin left the bathroom and made for the auditorium again. The lobby was still deserted, save for the trainee from earlier trying to figure out the popcorn machine. He went back in—and saw Clay looking away from the screen.

“Zombies wanna eat brains. That’s it. Period. No—deeper meaning. No metaphor for human existence. Nothing.” He was talking to the air. Someone who wasn’t there. But was. He seemed amused by something, then hung his head for a moment, like he was about to say something else, but couldn’t.

“I can’t forgive you, Hannah. I can’t ever forgive you.”

So there it was. The undeniable proof. Right in front of Justin. He’d frozen in place near the door, which was far enough from Clay that he wouldn’t have heard him come back in with the movie on. Justin swallowed, and that need for a hit jabbed him in his arm, making it tingle. He knew this wasn’t a good idea, but he went along with Clay, anyway. Hindsight, again. A fucking bitch.

He walked down the aisle and quickly made for his seat. As he expected, Clay seemed startled to see him. “It’s just me,” Justin said. He smiled.

Clay gave him a weak smile back. “Of course. Who else would it be?”

His eyes seemed to be glistening, slightly. Justin could tell, even in the low light of the theater. He tried to turn his attention towards the screen. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Clay said, shaking his head. “Nothing you wouldn’t be able to piece together from a mile away.”

As the film went on, Justin was getting more antsy by the minute. He knew he should be doing more for Clay, but he had no clue as to what he should even be doing. He’d failed in keeping Jensen distracted. And their bro-ness was just making things weird again.

This theater had been Clay and Hannah’s place. But she was gone, and despite whatever Clay might have been thinking in that head of his, she wasn’t coming back. Maybe Justin could give him another reason to remember this place.

He reached over and took Clay’s hand from his lap, placing his arm on the hand rest between them before squeezing his hand in his own. Clay looked over at him and smiled, barely suppressing a laugh, but said nothing. Justin smiled in return before looking back at the movie screen, just in time for the door to break and the zombies to start pouring through.

As they continued to hold hands, Justin eventually said, “Hey, Jensen.”

“Yeah?” the boy answered, looking towards him.

Justin kept his gaze on the movie. “I dare you to kiss me,” he said, then looked back at Clay.

Clay burst out in a restrained laugh, shutting his eyes briefly as his cheeks reddened. He leaned back in his chair. “I dare you to kiss _me._ ”

“I dared you first.”

The boy looked back at him, and seemed to glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Clay then let go of his hand and leaned over, reaching for his head. Justin met him halfway and shut his eyes as their lips met. Clay kissed him slowly, and Justin could still taste a bit of the syrup they’d had with their pancakes that morning. Justin nearly groaned. He wished they were back in bed.

When Clay pulled back, he said, “Satisfied?” He still had that slight smirk.

Justin inhaled deeply, clicking his tongue. “Not yet,” he said, and he reached for Clay’s hand again. They leaned towards each other once more, and Justin held the boy’s hand as they kissed. Now this, _this_ felt right, and as they quietly massaged each other’s lips, Justin’s anxiety melted away. Clay seemed to relax again. The unspoken weirdness between them finally seemed to dissipate. Justin savored the moment, meeting in kind every soft caress of Clay’s lips and occasional slip of warm tongue. He inhaled each breath from Clay, and exhaled just to take in more of him each time. He was getting a little excited, yes, but they were in no rush. They weren’t there to get somewhere—they were there to take their time. As far as Justin was concerned, they were already at the top. He was happy to enjoy the view.

By the time he could even think that they had been making out for a while, Justin reluctantly pulled away to realize the credits were rolling. After glancing at the screen, they looked back at each other and burst out laughing. They laughed for a while, leaning back in their chairs, and watched the credits until the last of the text disappeared into the ceiling and the lights in the theater brightened.

“So,” Clay said, “wanna make it a double?”

Justin leaned forward to stretch. After getting a satisfying pop in his back, he stood up. “Sure, why not?”

Clay got up and they walked out of the auditorium. As they came back into the lobby, the trainee behind the counter seemed to be giving them a weird look. By the time Justin noticed, it was clear Clay had already seen it, too.

“Do you care if someone might have seen us in there?” he asked. Clay was smiling, but that mischievous edge in his eyes was gone.

“I, I dunno,” Justin said. “Do you?”

“I’m not sure, either. But—I don’t think he did. See us, I mean. In there.”

They were casually strolling back towards the ticket counter. “Maybe he’s just judging us ‘cause he knows we’re about to see another movie. Because we’re such gluttons for punishment.”

Clay laughed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s definitely it. You know, when Hannah and I worked here, we used to judge people who came to the theater alone.”

“Well, obviously, you’re not alone,” Justin said, smiling.

Clay stopped. “Yeah,” he said, forcing a chuckle. “Obviously. I guess—I guess I mean to say, thank you, Justin. For being here, and coming with me today.”

That caught Justin off-guard. Why did he feel the need to thank him? “Yeah, of—of course. Sure. Is this—is this not like a, you know, a—”

Something high-pitched beeped. It had come from Clay’s pocket, and almost immediately afterwards, Justin felt his own phone vibrate against his thigh. They gave each other a grave look before pulling out their phones.

“It’s Mom,” Clay said, eyeing his phone.

“Yeah,” Justin said. It was a group text.

_The jury has their verdict. Court is reconvening in 30 minutes._ Then, after a moment, _I’ll meet you at the courthouse._

Clay sighed. Justin felt his heart drop.

“Well,” Jensen said, “this is it.”

“Yeah. This is it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


End file.
